Unoffical fly-tying season going full-blast

Sunday, January 16, 2005

At this moment, an unofficial season is going full blast in Maine, as it does each winter. This pastime involves a surprisingly large number of people who live for those free moments at home, when they can sit at a fly-tying vise and construct flies -- a cozy, delightful way to spend a January evening as wind howls under the eaves.

Mike Holt, proprietor of Fly Fishing Only in Fairfield, recently said the fly-tying side of his business was steadily and predictably growing, which he bases on increasing sales of tying materials and equipment and on the rising popularity of his tying classes.

Yes, more and more folks are discovering what many of us veteran fly rodders have known all along. This part of the sport has everything to recommend it, and winter is the perfect time to do it.

A definite, modern trend in flies and tying has encouraged newcomers into the hobby, too. In my lifetime, newer patterns have evolved into more simple dressings than the old-time styles developed through the 19th century and the first half of the 20th century. The era of easy-to-tie, durable, effective flies now reigns, and that plus can never be underestimated.

Not to belabor the point, but gone are the days when a majority of patterns called for complex tying skills and exotic, difficult-to-find materials. At least 99 percent of today's tiers avoid dressings that call for marrying feathers, building wings with feather segments from 10 different birds and performing myriad steps during the construction.

John Kenealy, a bamboo-rod maker in Turner, recently emphasized this movement toward simple flies, when he told me about a favorite caddis emerger that called for three different materials, including a size 14 to 24 caddis hook. The other two items were CDC feathers and black tying thread. That's it É just three É unbelievable.

Kenealy, a Catskill-born fly tier, said he liked tying this no-name fly with gray or black feathers, but olive, cream or color combos also take trout, depending on the hatch. In short, the secret to fooling a trout with a fly is matching the imitation to the insect in size, color and silhouette.

Kenealy begins the fly by smoothly wrapping tying thread on the hook shank from just behind the eye to the bend of the hook. He then twists a few CDC feathers together into a single strand that resembles a piece of yarn. With tying thread, he then secures the yarn-like material by the tip ends and then wraps the corded feathers along the length of the shank, which makes a tapered body -- thin at the back and fatter near the eye.

He adds two or three more CDC feathers for a down-winged-style fly, making sure the tips of the feathers are pointing toward the back of the hook. After making a head with thread, it is done -- a 21st century fly. (I am not a fast tier but could construct about 20 per hour once I started.)

Kenealy claimed his pattern works big time on picky Kennebec trout feeding on emerging caddis in a tough, matching-the-hatch situation. Right now is the time to tie a bunch of these patterns for next spring.

Along the theme of simplicity, Bob Mallard, at Kennebec River Outfitters in Madison, sells a vast array of Compara-dun dry flies, another pattern that a beginner can master in no time. When mayflies hatch, Compara-duns fool finicky old browns, too, because they create a better silhouette than the classic, Catskill-styled dry flies.

Catskill dry flies brings up a topic that underscores the rarity of some fly-tying materials. The old Hendrickson, originated in 1915, originally called for urine-stained fur from a red-fox vixen. (Hey, I ain't making this up.)

The reason flies were so complicated a century ago and certainly two centuries ago involves job security of all things. Professional tiers would construct patterns with rare materials and feathers from across the world, and the steps would be many and complex. This kept many want-to-be tiers out of the business, giving established artisans a monopoly.

These days, so many of us tie our own flies and do not want to be bothered with spending one to two hours, putting a single Jock Scott or Green Highlander together. A master tier might construct eight of them per day. Compare that to Kenealy's fly, which an average tier can make in two to four minutes -- or 15 to 30 per hour.

This is the fast-food age, and fortunately, simple patterns that take scant minutes to tie can attract trout like a McDonald's Quarter-Pound lures a teenager. It is a no-brainer which flies rule winter nights, as we labor toward spring.

Here is a great suggestion for folks who want to get into fly-tying. Sign up for a night class at a local high school or at a fly shop like Fly Fishing Only in Fairfield and learn the proper way to do it. A tying course will jump-start anyone into the hobby and in the process, guarantee the participants will make lifelong friends with fellow students and instructors.

Another plus is this: Flies average $1.95 each but saltwater patterns can cost $8 and up. A tier can put a trout fly together for pennies, and a dressing that costs 25 to 30 cents for material would be a fancy pattern indeed. In short, there is a financial incentive for those folks who accumulate hundreds of flies.

With cost-saving considerations aside, though, it just does not get any better for fly rodders than wrestling fish ashore on flies that they tied from scratch.

Ken Allen, of Belgrade Lakes, writes outdoors columns for the Morning Sentinel and Kennebec Journal. E-mail: KAllyn@aol.com